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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963684">Spades is NOT a Kingdom</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano'>DemonicPiano</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Cardverse, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Kinda, M/M, Mild Groping, Strippers &amp; Strip Clubs, USUK - Freeform, crime investigation, hell yeah my dudes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:14:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonicPiano/pseuds/DemonicPiano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite a body count stacking higher and higher in the streets, the local police department doesn't seem to have enough energy to care for random prostitutes and strippers. It's up to a British and desperate-for-retirement investigator under the alias of 'James Bond' to get to the bottom of things, starting with finding out what is this 'Spades' that the victims all came from.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>America/England (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Spades is NOT a Kingdom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know anything about government intricacies, crime investigations, or LITERALLY ANYTHING. I just wanted to write some gay stuff. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spades is<em> not</em> a Kingdom...</p><p>It is a strip bar, just off the nearest exit from the highway. All sorts of women congregate there. Short women, tall women, old women, new women. Alfred 'The King' Jones brings them in. Sets them up. They dance. They drink. He love his girls. They love their King.</p><p>It's a typical strip bar, just on the edge of town.</p><p>That's exactly what King Alfred Jones wants you to think.</p><p>~.~</p><p>"Another whore dead. That's the second one this week. And the fourth in just this month! Ugh, some people."</p><p>This wasn't just some murder spree for shits and giggles.</p><p>"They're all women."</p><p>"What, you think some psychopath is on the loose, prowling for an easy assault?</p><p>"I wouldn't call it prowling, Agent...uh..."</p><p>"Bond."</p><p>"Bond? Right," one of the officers surrounding a woman's body gave the blond detective a sour look. "None of the women were sexually assaulted. They were simply killed."</p><p>"Is it really that simple?"</p><p>"Sometimes it is."</p><p>'Bond' rolled his eyes, turning away from the victim. Just a whore, they said. Who cared about whores until they needed one? He scraped the bottom of his shoe on the asphalt, portending to the grit in his jaw as the other officers dared to share a chuckle in gruesome company. "No," he refused to ignore his hunch, "this isn't something to sweep under the rug. It's not a whore. She's a woman, and she's dead. Just like the others. You said they came from the same place."</p><p>"Yeah," the officer mused, "the whore house just down a few blocks!"</p><p>"Spades," another put in. 'Bond' offered his attention over the other. "It's a strip bar coming off of Main Street. Lots of...disreputable folks can be seen coming out of there."</p><p>"And you think one of them could have done this?"</p><p>A shrug, "Who knows? Prostitutes are killed all the time. Not just by clients, you know."</p><p>And thus, 'Bond' lost him. "I'm getting nowhere," he grumbled aloud. "Give me the address. I'll go there for answers."</p><p>"What, you think the King is up to something?"</p><p>"The what?"</p><p>"That's what we call him."</p><p>Another chimed, "Or what he calls himself, the wacko."</p><p>"There's a man, Jones, he runs the place." One of the officer's eyes flickered around, almost uncomfortable and fitting to the back alley setting, "Honestly, I wouldn't think he would be behind this, but he's always been a character. You know, pimps and what not. He even gives out these...business cards, if you want to go sniffing around."</p><p>"I do," 'Bond' said, taking the card. "Thank you."</p><p>"Thank<em> you</em>. I didn't want my wife to see this thing in my wallet!"</p><p>Agent 'Bond' quirked a particularly thick brow at what he held. A card suit Spade blotted the white background as printed information formally invited anybody to come by. A bit dramatic for a strip club, but those weird stomach feelings wouldn't leave him alone, and since nobody else seemed to care about some strippers, he supposed he had to.</p><p>~.~</p><p>"Do you have an appointment?"</p><p>Mister 'Bond' let the secretary (?) think about what she just said for a moment. Cute woman, but a bit too girlish and petite; that ribbon in her hair made her seem too young to even be<em> near</em> the kind of place that she worked in. After a moment, he said, "Excuse me?"</p><p>The girl cleared her throat, shifted in her seat to sit straighter, and asked louder, "Do you have an appointment, <em>sir?"</em></p><p>'Bond' blinked once. "I figured it was more of an open house."</p><p>"If you want to see the King, you need an appointment. If you just here for the drinks and girls, then go right in through that doorway there."</p><p>Ridiculous. Someone playing royalty. Over a strip bar. 'Bond' could already feel a headache coming. "Fine," he relented, since busting in and demanding answers in the middle of a crack den got him into hot stuff last time. "I'll make an appointment for as soon as possible."</p><p>The girl smiled, overly sweet, "Wonderful. I'll notify the King that we have a guest. I'll be right back with the wait time."</p><p>Great, 'Bond' had to wait for a wait time.</p><p>"May I have a name?"</p><p>"Agent Bond."</p><p>"A real name, sir."</p><p>"No."</p><p>The girl gave a slight shake to her head, but said nothing else as she disappeared through a door behind her. Double doors posed at the other side of the room, across from the entrance where low, pulsing music escaped into the quiet hall. He had to roll his eyes at it all.</p><p>'Bond' glanced around. White walls, gray (surprisingly) clean carpet. A dark leather couch waited for his bum, but it could wait a while more. He wandered to the deep cerulean double doors and lifted his palms to press them open. They wouldn't let him in. There was a lack of handles on his side. Smart.</p><p>The girl returned, tipping her head and smiling as 'Bond' stuffed his hands in his suit pants and wandered back to the desk, nonchalant. "It'll be about fifteen minutes, sir. You can take a seat."</p><p>Oh, he could? How kind. 'Bond' muttered a low, "Thanks," and found the couch. A simple painting of card suits spilling onto a table entertained his eyes before they fell onto the girl. She scrolled on her computer, and based on that miffed giggle, she was not doing whatever 'secretaries' for strip bars do.</p><p>Only fifteen minutes. Not so bad. Too little to really do anything, but too much to just sit there. "Do you have a restroom I could use?"</p><p>The girl nodded, and pointed to a doorway away from the double doors that apparently led to paradise.</p><p>Five minutes down.</p><p>'Bond' plopped on the couch again after making sure his collar was straight.</p><p>Eight minutes down.</p><p>In the painting, the Queen of Spades was spilling out of hands last, resting on top of everycard else.</p><p>Twelve minutes down.</p><p>Nobody said anything. Just the occasional mouse click.</p><p>Fourteen minutes down.</p><p>Almost up. If they were punctual. Who knows how long it took for strippers and what not to grease up the poles, or wash all that glitter off.</p><p>Fifteen minutes down.</p><p>Ah, now 'Bond' should have not been surprised. It was a strip bar, after all-</p><p>The doors swung open, and soft music had replaced the cheap disco beat from earlier. Two women in bikini lingerie put their hands on the doors and the other on their hips in union. 'Bond' fought the urge to swallow.</p><p>The girl at the desk rose and held out a hand. "You may enter. The King is ready to see you."</p><p>'Bond' almost rolled his eyes for the <em>n</em>th time that evening as he rose from the couch, knees cracking to embarrass him. A mere mutter of, "Thanks," bided the ribbon girl well, and he hoped to never have to see her again.</p><p>Then came the club part. The place was scantily lit, and only a few patrons decorated the bar. Nobody was getting lap dances, and nobody worked up the poles on a loopy stage coming out from one of the walls. 'Bond' swore he heard one of the door women click her tongue in distaste. He forced himself forward. A few more suggestively-clad women passed, keeping their noses up and eyes forward. He tried the same thing.</p><p>Poles to the left, a beautiful wrap around bar to his right. An impressive pyramid wine display illuminated the back wall, glistening from a heavenly light above, and 'Bond' stuck a tab to his brain that he should get a drink or two or five to forget this whole thing before he left. Unfortunately, that note had to go the bins straight away, as he was on a murder case. If people didn't murder other people, then perhaps he could be having a nice drink right now.</p><p>One of the door women separated to stride forward and pull out a chair from a nearby dining table. She held a hand to the cushion, and 'Bond' supposed he had to make himself comfortable.</p><p>As soon as his rear hit the seat, several finely manicured hands tackled his jacket. "Uh, that's all right, you don't need to do all that."</p><p>"We weren't," one of the women were unnecessarily curt.</p><p>Oh, <em>oh,</em> 'Bond' clenched his jaw as his handgun left his possession. He could almost hear it crying his name as they put it several tables down, which held two other women sneering in his direction. One curled her lip as something thin and long twirled in her palm. A pocket knife. He quickly glanced away. Not surprising, given how the last few weeks ended for some of the women around here.</p><p>If 'Bond' were a lesser man, he may have needed another trip to the restrooms to piss himself.</p><p>Spotlight flickered on, dragging his gaze to deep royal blue cushions of a couch, or bed - something in between arching up in a shape of a Spade against the wall he faced. It remained empty. Something told 'Bond' that it was not going to be for long. His fingers tapped the arms of his chair. Two women put their heads together, obviously whispering in gossip. He never felt so offended.</p><p>Well, if the big man was going to show up, then now would be the perfect time!</p><p>A door beside the couch-bed-thing opened. A little Asian lady. Not a big man. That's all right; she wore some kind of oriental red leotard, complete with golden tassels at the waist. She barely swept her gaze over 'Bond,' and stopped beside the enormous seat. Posed beside it, more like. She said nothing, staring over 'Bond's' head. He almost picked up a hand to do a 'WTF' gesture, but the door swung open again, bouncing off the wall. She cleared her throat.</p><p>'Bond' jumped.</p><p>A tall, nearly nude figure posed in the threshold as dots of light danced on the floor before him. Yes, <em>him.</em> The only other man in the building, as far as 'Bond' was concerned, and he was starting to get very, very concerned. He tried to keep his eyes away from anything peeking out of rich blue bikini bottoms. The damn heathen had a fur-lined cloak draped over his bare shoulders and a bedazzled crown crooked on his pretty head. Pretentious.</p><p>A coherent thought, perhaps his last, told 'Bond' he should say, 'Never mind,' and leave.</p><p>"Hi, sweetness," strong, long (not to mention bare) legs conquered the floor in a few strides. "I heard you wanted to see me?"</p><p>There had to be some sort of mistake. He was just there to talk. He was certain that he made that point quite clear. They were just going to talk, right?</p><p>A pathetic, "Uh, well, I-"</p><p>The cloak slipped with a brush of the hands, and fluttered to the floor, distracting eyes just for a moment. A moment for the newcomer to make himself welcome on 'Bond's' lap.</p><p>"Sir?!" 'Bond' grunted as a very warm and very almost-naked body pressed close, "There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding. I simply came here to have a chat!"</p><p>"Oh, honey," was that a Southern drawl hinted under the club's tantalizing melodies? "Don't be shy. We can chat later."</p><p>"No, that's quite all right, really." Green eyes followed the expanse of skin against his slacks, but quickly ripped themselves to glue to the wall. "This is nice, and all, but-"</p><p>"You're welcome. Now, tell me. What do you<em> need?"</em></p><p>Trying for sturdy words, "Uh, well, I've been sent to work with the PD, because of the unusual disappearances-"</p><p>The man in 'Bond's' lap welcomed his fingers through yellow-blond hair, gazing back in what could be boredom through half-lidded, impossibly blue eyes. "Mm-hm?"</p><p>"But there's...I'm investigating several mur-murders of women that...I heard o-originated from here..."</p><p>Hot breath grazed 'Bond's' ear. "Uh-huh?"</p><p>"You know what? Surely there's somewhere else-" A yelp escaped 'Bond' as a heavy palm scrubbed into his chest, "We could s-si-it...ah, you don't -<em> agh!"</em></p><p>A teeny giggle, "Don't be so boring." Teeth met his neck. Teeth! This crazy King-guy took a leisurely chunk of 'Bond's' dignity and skin. Right in front of all those women. They weren't even fazed.</p><p>The warmth against his lap was gone. All within a few quick moments. "Wha...?" 'Bond' scoffed, trying to keep his heartrate down. It didn't work. The King waved a black wallet between his index and middle finger, sending another giggle over his shoulder.</p><p>'Bond' furrowed his eyebrows. Patted his jacket. His eyes went wide. "Hey! That's mine!"</p><p>Rough hands reacquainted his shoulders to the back of his chair. 'Bond' gawked at the women surrounding him, scowling and grinning at his pathetic self. One even ran a hand through his birds-nest-for-hair. Dinner was about to be served.</p><p>The King flicked open 'Bond's' wallet, and paged through the contents, oblivious to the flustered animosity sent from its captive owner.</p><p>One of the women plucked the cloak from the floor before draping and tying it over the King's shoulders. He sent out a thanks, and fell into the enormous cushion against the wall. He sent a smirk 'Bond's' way as he shook the wallet. The lady standing beside his 'throne' leaned in to investigate.</p><p>"Chen-Chen," The King relinquished his prize with a chuckle and shake of the head, "I think you'll appreciate this."</p><p>The lady, Chen-Chen, observed the beauty of whatever they found in 'Bond's' wallet. There was just his badge and some cash. That was all. Her King grinned down 'Bond's' glare.</p><p>"'James Bond.'" Chen-Chen narrowed her eyes at 'Bond.' "Seriously. James Bond."</p><p>"I know," the agent tried, "I hear it every day."</p><p>"What is your real name?"</p><p>"James Bond. It says so on my badge."</p><p>"Right." The little lady snapped the wallet shut and crossed her arms. "I am going to ask you one more time. Real name."</p><p>'Bond' scowled, and curtly shrugged.</p><p>The King lifted his hand. Chen-Chen handed the wallet back over. He gazed at the contents once more for a long moment. The women imprisoning his guest gave 'Bond's' shoulders a squeeze, sinking their witchy nails through his suit jacket. Another wave, and the King's second-in-command leaned down and let him whisper in her ear. A smile blessed her face, and she straightened. "The King thinks you're fake."</p><p>'Bond' scoffed, jerking his chin to the man lounging and fanning himself with the wallet, "What, he couldn't tell me that himself?"</p><p>Ignored.</p><p>"The numbers on your registry are from last year. Your real name. Now, or you will leave."</p><p>Coldly, "May I have my wallet back?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"No? I beg your pardon, ma'am, but it is<em> highly</em> illegal to hold a government agent's property against him-"</p><p>"Like it is illegal to impersonate one?"</p><p>'Bond' blinked angrily as his imprisoners sniggled above his head. He made sure to sink his discontent in the King's pretty blue eyes, "I am here to investigate the deaths of several women that all led back here. If these are your girls, why are you holding me back? I'm trying to get to the bottom of this!"</p><p>The little lady opened her mouth, probably to say something particularly scathing, but a low call from the throne's centerpiece interrupted, "Chen-Chen."</p><p>She immediately zoned on her King. "Yes, sire?"</p><p>The wanna-be Royal lifted a finger and grinned. "Let me get this straight. Or however you take it." The man tossed the wallet on the cushions so carelessly to pose his fingertips in a steeple, "You come in here, Mister Bond, waiting patiently for us to take you. Much obliged."</p><p>"What-"</p><p>"Yet you avoid telling us who you are, and what you really want."</p><p>"I already told you-"</p><p>"Don't interrupt me."</p><p>'Bond' clamped up. He didn't know why.</p><p>"You're hiding a lot. It makes you really, really suspicious, you know. Plus you're a terrible flubber. Trust me, nothing can hide from these thighs."</p><p>'Bond' squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, just a moment so none of these people and the burn lingering on his cheeks existed.</p><p>"You act cheesy with your name," the King continued, "sport an outdated FBI badge." To Chen-Chen, "Unless it's fake. Whoever made that knows what they're doing. Unfortunately, for them," they exchanged a grin, "I know what I'm doing more."</p><p>Silence.</p><p>'Bond' took the opportunity to ask, "So, what?"</p><p>"So what? Mister James, maybe you are telling the truth. Maybe you are actually a God-sent gift to catch us whoever is..." He took a deep breath. Chen-Chen rubbed one of his shoulders, and he softly smiled. "Thanks. Or maybe not. Maybe you're nothing. Nothing but an urchin playing some kind of game."</p><p>'Bond' kept quiet. That seemed like a swell idea.</p><p>"I need to protect my girls. I need to protect them because of people like you pattering around in the dark streets, sniveling and lying and doing anything to take advantage and get what they want."</p><p>"That's not true," he muttered.</p><p>"Oh, it's not?" The King tipped his head. The attractive bugger. "Well, Mister James, if you want answers, if you want to help us, and you want us to help you, sell yourself to me. Persuade me that you're not just a crumb of dirt that rolled in here from the breeze!"</p><p>At 'Bond's' hesitance, the King swished a hand, "Or you can turn around and never come back. We'll be keeping your badge, though."</p><p>Damn it, it took a lot of string-pulling to get that thing. 'Bond' swallowed, keeping his voice level, "Everyone calls them whores. They just pick their bodies off the streets and throw them away. I, however, just want answers. So nobody else gets ideas. So these don't spread to <em>literally</em> anybody else. You? Me? My cat? Somebody needs to get the bottom of these murders before anybody else drops dead!"</p><p>"So do I."</p><p>'Bond's' arms started to uncomfortably tingle under those women's death grips. "Fine." Not the worse thing he been through. "What do you want from me, then?"</p><p>The King sprung a grin, almost too giddy in his own game. "Well, an apology would be nice, first!"</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"No, a <em>real</em> apology."</p><p>"I said I was sorry."</p><p>The King flapped a hand to 'Bond's' imprisoners. They immediately released and backed away, still poised to attach to him again at a moment's notice. "Get on your knees."</p><p>"Pardon?"</p><p>"Get. On. Your. Knees."</p><p>'Bond' blanched. "Absolutely not! Who knows what's on these floors!"</p><p>The King turned his head away, staring at something. 'Bond' questionably glanced to what it was, but apparently the madman was simply spacing off. Nobody said anything. An impasse.</p><p>"Oh, for fuck's sake," 'James' spat, and carefully lowered himself to the tiled floor, desperately thinking of his washer back at his flat. "There. Better?"</p><p>Immediately, the King brightened, even wiggling in his throne like a child in a sweets store, "Ha-ha-ha! I knew you looked like the kind of guy that gets on knees easily!"</p><p>"Excuse me?!"</p><p>"I didn't even need to say please!"</p><p>"I fucking can't believe this."</p><p>The King winked.</p><p>'Bond' scoffed.</p><p>"So, your name, hon. Your<em> real</em> name?"</p><p>Some of the women tittered around the agent's head. One even put a hand on his shoulder and patted down some of his hair with a sympathetic coo. Absolutely humiliating. However, he was indeed, already on his knees. What was a little less dignity at that point?</p><p>"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."</p><p>"Is that your real name? Is that the name your momma gave you?"</p><p>"Yes!" Arthur snapped.</p><p>The King slung a leg over the other and leaned forward, propping a hand over his chin with a smile and drawled, "Ar-thur. Cute. I like that. Why'd you hide it from us?"</p><p>Arthur muttered to himself, "I'm not fucking cute."</p><p>"Ooh, so you're a manly man. I got to tell my girls to watch out!" Snickers rose from the crowd. Again, "Why did you hide it?"</p><p>"In my line of work, you tend to make many acquaintances that may or may not want your head. There are a lot of trails to cover up."</p><p>"Aw, see?" The King cooed, "That wasn't that hard, was it?"</p><p>Arthur gritted his teeth.</p><p>"You still owe me an apology."</p><p>"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?!"</p><p>"Mm, as many times you can until I say stop."</p><p>"Not that you ever would."</p><p>Warmly, "So you can be a good boy. You can take a seat now, Arthur."</p><p>Arthur almost keeled forward and pressed his forehead to the floor to shrivel up and die. Almost. He grunted, knees clicking as he pushed himself from the ground, tugging on his jacket to brush away invisible debris. The women hovered closer. He took the chair once more. They stepped away.</p><p>"I want to trust you, Arthur," King Jones continued. "I want you to trust us. We both want the same thing..."</p><p>Arthur suppressed the need to fidget under eyes raking down his form. Curtly, "Uh-huh?"</p><p>"Someone's killing my girls. Murdering them and leaving them on the streets. Hunting them. How can they work, see the Sun, see their families when they feel like it's not safe enough?" The King's voice fell flat as his gaze adopted a darker look, "Get to the bottom of this, Arthur, and I will make sure you're more than rewarded of your wildest dreams."</p><p>"I want a yacht and a private island."</p><p>"Done." The King's eyes never left his. "Find out who's doing this."</p><p>Arthur blurted, "What sort of business are you running here?"</p><p>One side of the King's mouth lifted. "Make sure you come back to us."</p><p>The women stared Arthur down. He did not need another moment to shoot out of the chair. He never left a scene so fast in his entire life.</p><p>Chen-Chen announced, "He left his wallet."</p><p>"Good," King Jones was pleased how well his surprise visit went. How well pieces fell into place in his favor. "He'll be back."</p><p>"Would you like for us to keep trailing him?"</p><p>"Of course!"</p><p>~.~</p><p>"Yeah, last Wednesday...no, was it Tuesday? Oh! Definitely Thursday. Yeah. So the guy goes creeping into the alley-"</p><p>"Was it Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, sir?"</p><p>"I don't know, man, like, last week sometime."</p><p>Arthur tucked his notepad into his jacket with a sharp sigh. "You know what? That's enough. Thanks anyway."</p><p>"I'm telling you! That guy was maaaaad fishy!"</p><p>Thankfully, another officer stepped in and offered, "How about we go over here and discuss it?"</p><p>Arthur slowly shook his head. He considered picking back up smoking. He thought of that King man sitting on his lap. A policewoman came up, not looking happy, "This is tedious."</p><p>"You mean going around, interviewing crack addicts, sitting there taking pictures of some clump of hair, waiting for some lousy DNA test to spit out something decent, or still having to catch the fucker that's making us do all of this?"</p><p>She stared, almost puzzled. "All of the above."</p><p>A shrill ring. They turned to a fellow officer looking funny as he tentatively brought a payphone to his ear. Yeah, that's right. A payphone. "Sir...what? How did you get this...no, that's..." He tossed an almost concerned expression to his group. "Some guy's calling for...an Agent Sexy?"</p><p>The group members glanced among themselves, murmuring in confusion, and amusement for others. Dread for Arthur. "There is nobody here under that name."</p><p>The officer manning the phone relayed. He glanced back, grimacing, "Agent Sexy Brows?"</p><p>Stares settled on Arthur. He groaned, nonchalantly putting a hand over his forehead as he pushed his way through.</p><p>One of the officers noted, "They sure like sending us the weird ones."</p><p>"What?" Arthur snarled into the receiver.</p><p>"Baby," a whine from the other end was trumped by a titter, "how are you doing?"</p><p>"Seriously? First it was 007, now it's Sexy Brows?! Do you mind? I have a name and reputation, you know!"</p><p>"Hey, your buddies had a kick out of that 007-thing."</p><p>Dully, "I know. What are you doing, calling on a damn payphone? Shoot a text message like a normal person."</p><p>"You keep leaving in such hurry, you don't give me your number, darlin'."</p><p>Arthur jittered from goosebumps. He tossed a glance around the street. The police officers had grins on their smarmy faces, not even pretending to not eavesdrop. "The investigations are fine, if that's what you're wondering. I'm doing my job."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"I know you know." Arthur tossed a sourpuss scowl to two catty women hovering too close to the caution lines. "What, you don't think I would, so you're sending your girls to spy on me?"</p><p>"Oh, baby..." Arthur's teeth gnashed together. He didn't even need to be in front of the man to know he was pouting, "They're not spying<em> on</em> you. They're spying <em>for</em> you!" A flirtatious giggle, "You know I wanna look after you. There's very scary-ary people out there, and you're nice enough to sniff around for us..."</p><p>"Yeah, nice," Arthur coughed, feeling his cheeks burn up. Being a street-hardened agent on the beat meant nothing if he kept blushing like a giggly schoolgirl. Why didn't he just hang up the phone already? His finger itched to twirl around the cord, to do something, "So you sent your guard dogs to follow me. If I can call them that?"</p><p>"You can. One is too many for them to have been murdered, Arthur. You are the only damn person that came in here to get to the bottom of things. Those officers just wanted an excuse to peek around. One even asked for a discount!"</p><p>Arthur flinched from the King's tone climbing, but he kept his eyes in the distance, intently listening to 'King' Alfred's mutterings, "The rest laughed me off, saying I'm a <em>pimp,</em> and my <em>prostitutes</em> got what was coming to them if they wanted to walk around like they do. Women that just want to dance and have fun. Others that just want to peel themselves from the streets and better themselves. Yes, they said that about them to me. Get to the bottom of this, Arthur. We're with you every step of the way."</p><p>Silence. The conversation ended.</p><p>Arthur hung up the phone, giving himself a shake out of his trance, a bit puzzled, yet a bit enlightened. He caught the eyes of the pair of women huddled around a pocket mirror, fluffing their hair. Some of the policemen nodded and grinned approvingly.</p><p>Arthur wondered what in the world he walked into, if not a bar.</p><p>~.~</p><p>"What's your story, baby?"</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"How did you find yourself here and where you are now?"</p><p>Arthur spent half his mind pretending the man helping himself to his lap had manners. The other half...well, that was in its own battle to squash the desire to get one, just<em> one</em> touch of the warm skin beneath strings of plastic (or they might actually be real, Arthur sure didn't know) jewels glinting in Spades' rave lights and hanging from King Alfred's waist.</p><p>"I've been wondering the same damn thing."</p><p>The King snickered and welcomed his head to Arthur's shoulder. "You never told me why you were impersonating an FBI agent."</p><p>"Who says I'm impersonating one?"</p><p>"You're funny, Arthur."</p><p>To think he didn't even need to crack a joke. "Are we done here? I gave you police report. So..."</p><p>"So?" Alfred picked up his head to gesture to the scarcely dressed women twirling on the poles in mock competition while others crowded at the foot of the stage, whooping and throwing Monopoly money. "You trying to say you want to leave already? Aren't you having fun?"</p><p>"Not really," Arthur lied, "women in lingerie never really did me in. You're also cutting off the circulation in my legs."</p><p>"Not interested in my girls?!" King Jones slung a leg infested with glitter over the other. "Shoot, and to think they're dancing their butts off to get you to smile."</p><p>Arthur pulled his lips back. "There. Smiling. Done."</p><p>"Aw! Artie!" The dumb monarch unnecessarily wound his strong, warm arms around Arthur's neck, nuzzling included. "Are you more interested in <em>men</em> wearing lingerie? I got something in the back I've been waiting to pull out-"</p><p>"Nope! No! That's quite all right! Thanks anyway."</p><p>"Oh, you're very welcome."</p><p>~.~</p><p>Rainy nights sitting on the edge of Arthur's bed were spent tipping back whatever he grabbed off the liquor store's shelf, which started to leave a bad taste in his mouth. The music of droplets against the window had turned into a sour pounding of torment inside his head. The stress and fetal positions were not any good on his joints.</p><p>Sunshine, warm beaches, and boats. Dolphins. Palm trees. Hell, even sunburn would be bliss compared to this so-called line of work. Arthur considered early retirement. Like, really early retirement. Playing with the PD and Spades would certainly line his pockets with enough gold to scram and never look back.</p><p>~.~</p><p>"Any news from your side, Alfred?"</p><p>Alfred turned his head away and lifted an arm to flap a hand at Arthur, who stared, dumbfounded. He pointedly cleared his throat.</p><p>A sigh, dramatic roll of the eyes, before Arthur took this King's hand and quickly pecked his lips against his skin. "Oh, how goes it, great and handsome King, sire, Alfred?"</p><p>"Oh, everything's peachy! You know, aside from some scumbag wanting my girls' blood. Everything can't be sunshine and roses all the time."</p><p>"Yes...right..."</p><p>Alfred stared with an unnecessary intensity. "And you, my loyal servant? How goes your unfortunate chase?"</p><p>Arthur had to huff and puff, stuffing his hands in his slack's pockets to distract the worse in himself, "Fine. It's simply the 'in-between' of everything, as I like to call it."</p><p>"Uh-huh." Alfred pursed his lips from the moment of silence and the distance between them before perking up with a cheeky, "Did you want to sit on my lap?"</p><p>"I said no such thing."</p><p>"How about a back massage? I'm sure runnin' around<em> all</em> day and <em>all</em> night, you're<em> so</em> sore, and-"</p><p>"I'm quite fine, thank you."</p><p>Some of the women giggled, obviously listening from any angle.</p><p>"I give amazing massages. Isn't that right, Chen-Chen? I remember when you twisted your ankle last winter!"</p><p>"Yes, sire, I remember that, too. I'm sure without you, it would have never set right."</p><p>"Come on! Surely you're not feeling your age already!"</p><p>"Hmph!"</p><p>Arthur coughed, looking around for anywhere to sit <em>besides</em> the big, poufy cushion of Spades.</p><p>"Are you suuuuuure?"</p><p>He didn't need to look at the King to know there was some funky wink in there. His voice did something funny and stunted under the thought of a back massage not being just a back massage, "Please, sire, you will give me a headache instead. Not that I don't already have one."</p><p>Alfred pouted, even going as far as nicking his foot against his couch a few times. "How about something from the bar?"</p><p>The bartender looked up.</p><p>Arthur pulled a smile. "Ah, now we're talking."</p><p>~.~</p><p>Broken bottles and DNA tests. Nothing showed progress besides the amounts of gray hair on Arthur's head. Paradise seemed so far away. But a King's lap was just down the road.</p><p>~.~</p><p>"I know you're not a real FBI agent."</p><p>Arthur almost started to sweat in his breeches, but then he remembered he was an adult and was somewhat capable of keeping his cool. Practice makes permanence. "Oh, yeah? What gives?"</p><p>"I've met real ones before. You're not made from the same material."</p><p>"What, the same wanna-be bootlickers for the American government? Hm, I guess you can say I'm not like the other girls."</p><p>"I knew from the beginning."</p><p>A light drum of fingers brushed up his back. Arthur clenched his jaw, suppressing a light shiver. His seat was warm and made of legs. He chose not to say anything. That has been a good habit as of late.</p><p>Unabashed, King Alfred announced, "I sent some of my girls to ransack your apartment the first time you came here. They told me you fold your underwear."</p><p>"Of course they did."</p><p>Alfred said nothing, still steadily staring with a hard look that could mean anything from vague disgust, interest, or just a stomach cramp. So Arthur had to know, "Why wait until now?"</p><p>"For what?"</p><p>"We're how many weeks into this thing. I'm here more than I'm in my own bed. If you knew I was...I wasn't..." Arthur couldn't bring himself to speak the truth.</p><p>"That you're not a cop, you're not an FBI agent, nor are you a secret spy? That you're a guy that just likes solving murder cases for the fun of it?"</p><p>"N-not for the fun of it..." Arthur tried, "It pays well. Besides, it's easier to get money thrown at you than having to take it from yourself. Oh, don't give me that look. It's not illegal to be a good Samaritan."</p><p>"Tax evasion is illegal."</p><p>"Don't get me started on what you're doing."</p><p>Alfred tipped his head, flashing a smile. It didn't meet his eyes, but it still stole the breath from Arthur's lungs. See, theivery. Highly illegal. "There's nothin' illegal about dancing."</p><p>"Hmph."</p><p>"I guess nobody was on you until now."</p><p>"Nobody will ever be on me. As soon as this is done, and I get my money, I'm out of here."</p><p>"What if I wanted you to stay?"</p><p>Arthur had to scoff at that one. "You're still going to be paying me, Jones."</p><p>"Nuh-ah, ah!<em> King</em> Jones."</p><p>"Whatever, you royal arse. Even if this runs me into a financial wall, what I'm doing on the PD's behalf will suffice. And, I suppose, a few less dead strippers on the streets will be my good karma for the year." Arthur turned his head to smirk in the King's face. "So, there. Try me. You'll wind up looking like the fool in the end."</p><p>Not bothered one bit, Alfred grinned for real this time with a twinkle in his eye and a generous palm against Arthur's back, "If that's the case, then why help us?"</p><p>"I already told you. I want a private island and a yacht."</p><p>"And I already told<em> you.</em> It'll be done."</p><p>~.~</p><p>Last time Arthur checked, murder investigations weren't supposed to be annoying. They were supposed to be stressful. Boring, even, to wait for tests and interrogations to pull through. Sure. The King hounded him every step of the way.</p><p>They caught the culprit.</p><p>Or some wanna-be culprit. The middleman. He worked for somebody, as the shrimp bragged all about it, getting his jollies off for knocking prostitutes. Being 'FBI' meant Arthur was put up front of the interrogation.</p><p>"Now you're just rewording your questions."</p><p>"Well, if you just fess up," Arthur sighed from across the table, eying his nails, "we could both be done with this."</p><p>The suspect set his jaw in a crooked manner, a bit baffled. "I'm already going to the can."</p><p>"Yeah, so get a move on. Chop-chop. I'm sure you have a name or two."</p><p>The criminal's face scrunched, "Are you sure you're FBI?"</p><p>The officers glued to the window squirmed. A door on the other side busted open. They freaked. Arthur rose from his seat. "What now?"</p><p>Nobody else but that damn King pressed himself against the glass, knocking and mouthing in fury. He had a collar full of black feathers exploding from his neck.</p><p>The police grabbed his arms, probably scolding him that he could not be there, but it certainly didn't stop a man that calls himself a King. Arthur strode across the room, ditching the frazzled suspect and rapped on the glass.</p><p>The officers looked over from nearly pile-driving King Alfred. Arthur jerked a thumb to the door before walking out.</p><p>"Let him in."</p><p>"What?! He's not authorized-"</p><p>Alfred wreathed in the law's grip, "I want to talk to that little bitch!"</p><p>"Impressive, sire," Arthur dully noted. "Let him loose already."</p><p>The officers glanced at one another. Alfred sputtered, giving another jerk, which almost earned him freedom.</p><p>"Go on, now. You want answers, don't you? Let him go."</p><p>One of the men warned, "Okay, but...keep it civilized, Jones."</p><p>King Alfred nearly shoved an officer over when they took too long to unleash him onto the world. He gave his dark overwrap a tug, sticking his nose in the air, and cocked his hip to the side. Bare man-legs stuck out from the downy jumble, so who knows what he had under there. "That's King Jones to you. Peasant!"</p><p>The door opened, and King Jones tossed behind himself, "A magician's going to need some privacy to work his magic, okay? So shoo! Shoo!"</p><p>Arthur groaned as the officers were blissfully confused. "You have ten minutes."</p><p>"I just need five!"</p><p>The door shut.</p><p>Awkward silence.</p><p>One of the men pointed to the observation room. "Should we keep an eye-"</p><p>"Nope," Arthur said. "No, you shouldn't."</p><p>"There could be a conflict of interest. Jones could hurt the suspect and we would never get a name. Let alone the legal reprocussions-"</p><p>The door opened.</p><p>Alfred sang, "We got a name! Don't know who it is, but I got it!"</p><p>Officers frothed at the mouth. "How?! He's been wired shut all afternoon!"</p><p>The King caressed one of their chins as he brushed by, "Oh, sweetheart, if you want to know, you can call me later."</p><p>"What..."</p><p>"Let him have his dramatic exit," Arthur said. "We have a lead. Get on it!"</p><p>~.~</p><p>"A pimp? A fucking pimp?!"</p><p>Some of the girls teared up as they huddled around the throne. Alfred stormed the bar floor. Nobody made his girls cry. "A stupid, jealous weasel...fucking...ugh! So, that's who he is! The whole time! Motherf-"</p><p>"Sire!" Chen-Chen brought her King from his curses.</p><p>He glanced at Arthur sitting slouched in his usual seat, tapping his lap with an unamsued finger. "You're right. That's...I shouldn't have let myself go like that. You," to Arthur, "you did well. If not for you, how many more of my girls would have been left dead in an alley? Sorry, ladies. You'll be appropriately rewarded after the courtcase."</p><p>Arthur, "I'll take a couple grand, direct diposit."</p><p>That got the King to work a little smile. A reward on its own.</p><p>Chen-Chen noted, "It's a landslide in our favor."</p><p>Then it was gone. Arthur frowned. King Jones grumbled, "Unless that bastard tries to pay his way out of it. I can't trust any lawyers if I don't want to lose anymore."</p><p>"What will you do, sire?"</p><p>So quickly, Alfred's eyes sizzled with glee as he eagerly paced the floor, "Oh, hon! Seven years in law school, what do you think I'm going to do?"</p><p>Chen-Chen pulled a wicked grin. "We're with you all the way."</p><p>~.~</p><p>"You and those whores belong in a gutter! Without me, they'll just end up overdosing in a dumpster!"</p><p>Alfred waved away the bastard being led from the court room within a collage of police officers. "Oh, beg to differ. You make them that way."</p><p>Then came the swarm of reporters. A perfect smile reflected the flashes of their cameras as the men and women pandered for his pretty blues. Alfred looked just as good fully clothed in a suit than he did anything else, and anything less. Arthur pulled a tight almost-smile, slipping away from the courthouse before it got too action-packed. It was best to keep to the background in his line of work instead of soaking it up for once, just once.</p><p>So it was done. He let out a much needed breath from behind the wall of reporters, just out of camera's sight.  Retirement was so close - a nice private island, no trespassing allowed...either way, he felt those stomach feelings again, telling him his days of chasing back-alley criminals were wrapping up. Good riddance. Maybe he should have opened a flower shop when he had the chance.</p><p>If not for tropical islands and coconuts, what would there for him?</p><p>~.~</p><p>An arm around his shoulders guided Arthur through the double doors, back into the bar. The ribbon girl rose from her seat to respectfully bow her head at her King's return, and the entourage of ladies soon following, filling the place with their happy chatter.</p><p>Arthur glanced around, not sure where to go first, or to follow the King to his throne, where Chen-Chen waited the good news. A hand grasped Arthur's wrist, and before he knew it, women from the bar surrounded him, smiling and giving his arms kind squeezes and ruffling his hair in worship.</p><p>"All right, ladies, that's...oh, hello!"</p><p>"We love you!"</p><p>"Err, well, I..."</p><p>"No, sweethearts," Alfred called to his ladies, sticking his fingertips to his mouth before blowing a kiss over their heads, much more eloquent, "I love you!"</p><p>Arthur almost scoffed, scorning the blush eagerly flaring across his cheeks. He gave Alfred a sourpuss look as the women broke apart, some going to the bar, others to retire for a peaceful nap for once, while some lingered to babble about the case. Alfred replaced their presence with a tender hand on Arthur's elbow and smiled, nodding to one of the more private tables in the opposite direction he wanted to go in - the bar.</p><p>"I believe we have some arrangements to discuss."</p><p>Of course. Drinks could wait. That was what Arthur would be doing on his own island, after all. He narrowed his eyes as Alfred pulled out a chair and gestured for him to take it. Unless the foolish King couldn't uphold his end of the bargain. Not completely. Taking a seat, Arthur wondered if he could get an island that wasn't<em> too</em> inhabited, if at all. He'd settle for that.</p><p>Across the table, Jones stuck out his hand, palm open. Arthur almost leaned away, staring at it like his fingers were covered in something unpleasant. "What?"</p><p>"I want to thank you for everything you did for us. Let's make it official. Shake on it."</p><p>"Oh, right," Arthur couldn't help but feel a bit silly. A firm handshake. After everything. Alfred's hand was pleasantly warm.</p><p>"If there's anything this King can do for you," Alfred gave a curt nod, "you let him know." There wasn't even a wink in there.</p><p>How strange. How strange for Arthur to consider it strange. He manually clamped his mouth shut, bopping his head up and down for a moment before trying words, "What we agreed on. I gave you my information. Direct deposit. Island. And the yacht. Then I'm off."</p><p>"Unless there's something else...?"</p><p>"What else could there be?"</p><p>Alfred grinned, as if Arthur played into his hand. He probably did. "Anything you want here, Arthur. Unlimited booze. Parties. Shopping trips. Anything you can have on your island without even having to leave."</p><p>Oh, he definitely did.</p><p>"What are you getting at all of a sudden?"</p><p>"Not all of a sudden. You helped us. You can't say it was all for the money. You have a knack for this sort of thing. Maybe even...a little bit of a hero complex of your own?"</p><p>Arthur snorted, giving the table a good smack, "If you're really going to say what I think you're going to say-"</p><p>"Stay here, Arthur. With us. With the ladies." The King's blue eyes hesitated with something Arthur had never caught them trapped in before; uncertainty. His voice didn't betray it, "With me. We can keep helping women get off the streets and away from abusive situations. Offer them freedom, enjoy it ourselves. It could be so much more than that. Let's make something beautiful together."</p><p>"You...you're really offering for me to sit beside you in some bar, watching strippers, over riding the rest of my days on waves and drinking whiskey in the sand?"</p><p>Although, admittedly, Arthur now knew it was so much more than that, "Yes."</p><p>"That's rather cocky of you."</p><p>If the King was hurt from the comment, his unwavering smile did not show. "You don't have to give me an answer right away."</p><p>Arthur's chair ground against the floor. "Goodbye, Alfred." He had a flight to schedule, after all.</p><p>Many eyes followed his backside, but Arthur had to keep going forward. If he let that King on his lap again, he would never get out from under. Of all things finally arriving from the future, that was the one he was most certain about.</p><p>King Alfred straightened against his seat with a long sigh, scrubbing his palms against his dress slacks. One of his girls came by and gingerly touched his shoulder, which he smiled and nodded in reassurance. The throne called his name, and he welcomed its deep blue clutches. "Not trying to let a little rejection weigh down all the shit we knocked out. I still have my girls."</p><p>"We love you, sire."</p><p>"I love you more."</p><p>"Impossible."</p><p>Chen-Chen spoke up, offering her wisdom, "He'll be back."</p><p>Alfred picked up his head too quickly, too excitedly. "What makes you say that?"</p><p>"He walked into the wall, looking at you as he tried to leave. Give him time. A few weeks. Months, at most, and he'll get sick of the sand and sunlight."</p><p>Alfred Jones stunted a thoughtful palm to his cheek, grinning at his 'Kingdom.' He had to remain optimistic. Spades called for a Queen, and a King always gets what he wants.</p>
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